"I need you to come pick me up." I breathed into the busted up old Razr, my legs shaking on the platform of the L. Californians have a different idea of what a fucking winter jacket is and I was wearing this flimsy ass leather jacket with a fur-lined collar which provided no warmth whatsoever. That breath of air I took came out as a puff of vapor and I sighed. My hands were fuckin' freezing out here. It was the middle of fucking January.

"What? In California? Cuz I ain't tryna drive all the way out to fucking Startford or wherever to pick your big ass up." Mickey's throaty voice rasped into my ear and I could already tell I interrupted a night of cuddling his fucking boyfriend. I love Ian, I sometimes love him more than anyone, but I needed my bestest friend in the world right now. My cousin.

"It's Stanford Mick. And leave my ass out of this." I sighed, resorting to walking down the steps that led onto the street. "I'm back in Southside. I didn't belong there. People were surprised when I started running from the cops instead of sticking around and talking to them."

"Wait what? Why didn't you start with that Tav? Okay, where are you?" I looked up and recognized the K&G, sighing. Bad memories dude, horrible really

"The L. At Ian's old spot. I'll wait on their stoop but hurry up. My fingers are damn near falling off." I smiled as I could hearing him muttering cuss words from the other end. Mickey always had my back, no matter what.

"I gotchu, I'm on my way." I nodded, despite him not being able to see me. I snapped the Razr shut and crossed the street, settling myself on the only spot of the stoop not covered in bird shit.

Mickey got there in ten. I grinned, ear to ear, as I stood up and hauled up all three duffel bags into his backseat. The beat up old family car was immaculate compared to Dad's old Jeep Cherokee.

I stood on the other as Mick crossed over and pulled me into only the fifth hug we've ever actually shared. I'd spent a large portion of our life together getting noogies, wedgies, and nipple twisters. So hugs were for special occasions like my mom ditching us after stealing the money I'd saved up for her rehab when I was thirteen and my returning to the South Side after living with the mcmansion inhabitants of Stanford for five months before bailing out and coming home right after finals. I'd transferred to Chicago Polytechnic and with Lip having ditched us for MIT, I was fine. I was ecstatic even.

Mickey let me go and patted my admittedly large bum, much larger than I like to say most of the time. "C'mon Startford, let's get you home. You can crash in my bed."

"Ugh, hell no, not with you and Ian fucking next to me." I rolled my eyes, buckling my seatbelt once I was in the car.

"It's either that or Iggy's room." Oh my fucking God, no. Iggy's room smells like seventy dirty diapers, extreme amounts of Axe, and gunpowder.

"If y'all fuck, I'm gonna cut your dicks off and feed 'em to a street dog." He chuckled and drove on down the familiar streets until we got to his beat up and shitty ass house. My second home. Ian and Mandy stood on the porch in heavy ass puff jackets and shorts (well, boxers in Ian's case), smoking cigarettes and apparently waiting for me.

"Stranfloor!" Mandy shouted and I rolled my eyes, grinning at her back as she jumped down the stairs to attack me with hugs.

"Malicious Mandeh!" I shouted back, returning her warm hug and pulling away to look at my cousin. "What's going on with you and the big black kid? He still fucking with you?"

"What the fuck Ian?" Her whips around to stare at the ginger who shrugs and comes down the stairs to hug me as well. He looks dazed but still here, if you know what I mean. Like my mom when she first started getting high. I was eight but I'll never forget that look as she snorted a line of coke with me sitting in the bathtub. It was terrifying.

I kept my mouth shut, setting those thoughts aside for a not so happy time. Mickey and Ian helped carry the bags inside and I threw myself on the raggedy old couch. There's a reason he didn't recommend my sleeping here instead, this shit is falling apart.

Mick got us all a couple of beers and we sat there laughing as I recounted the stories of the fuckheads running around Stanford before Ian spoke up.

"Wait, what about school? You didn't quit did you?" He asked, sipping his beer and leaning slightly against Mickey. Mandy looked at me with a raised eyebrow as I shook my head.

"Nah, I transferred out. You are looking at a brand new mathematics major at Chicago Polytechnic so I'm only a train ride away." I grinned again before they all frowned at me. "What? I thought you guys would've been happy?"

There was a beat as they gave each other pained looks, playing a silent game of not it before Mandy spoke up.

"So ... who's gonna tell her?"